


Clone Sex Prisoners

by BuddyWritesFic



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Clones, Drugs, Incest, M/M, Slaanesh, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddyWritesFic/pseuds/BuddyWritesFic
Summary: Fulgrim's clone and a clone of Vespasian are held captive by original Fulgrim.
Relationships: Fulgrim/Vespasian (Warhammer 40.000)
Kudos: 7





	Clone Sex Prisoners

Fulgrim’s dreams faded as the lights came on. He opened his eyes to a violent scream of color and closed them again. He was not up to looking at this room.

He decided to put it off. He smelled sweet incense. He tasted bitter medicine and dry wine. His limbs were heavy. His skin ran hot and cold with tingling, tickling pain that flowed down his body to pool in his hard cock. He ached for touch, and the brush of silk against him fed the ache.

He heard hoofbeats in the distance. Chimes and bells and laughing voices. A river’s roar.

“My Lord?”

His child!

He opened his eyes again. “Baby?” he called. “Vespasian?” Thoughts came unbidden to his mind. The sword in his mouth. The sword in his neck. The wound that opened, wet and pink, parting its lips as he – 

“Vespasian?” He threw aside the bed silks with fumbling hands. “Oh –” The blood drained from his head, and he fell down. It seemed that sudden movement was a mistake.

“I’m here, my Lord,” Vespasian said, emerging from the whirling colors. He crawled uncertainly, reaching out to feel his way before him.

Fulgrim was not pleased that his son had seen him fall, but he did his best to put it aside and focus on their bigger problems. It was hard going. His mind moved as ungainly as his hands. He stroked his son’s back, and his gossamer chiton buzzed under his skin. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’m –” Vespasian’s voice broke. He spoke with effort. “I’m disoriented. I think I’m unharmed.” His mouth was cut at the edges, and his neck was bruised. Fulgrim’s hearts sank at the memory. But he wasn’t missing parts, and he wasn’t bleeding. That was something. He blinked and shook his head. “I’m seeing things. Faces in the walls. They shift and change. I can’t tell if they’re real.”

“Oh, we’re real,” came a voice from above them. “We’ve been given leave to watch.” The speaker was a pink Daemon with white claws.

“Though not to intervene,” said a white Daemon with pink claws. “Just act like we’re not here.”

“Given leave to watch what?” asked Fulgrim.

“Whatever happens,” said the pink and white Daemon.

“Whatever you do,” said the white and pink.

“I’m taking sketches,” piped up an orange Daemon with tentacles. She showed them her charcoal and papers.

“Yeah, and she’s taking sketches,” agreed a clawed sister. “But we’re not participating –”

“– licking –”

“– rubbing –”

“– that’s up to you.”

“Don’t mind us!”

Pink-and-white ate candy from a box. White-and-pink touched herself under her dress. Orange sat poised at her lap easel, eyes open for inspiration.

“I hope they’re real,” Fulgrim muttered. “I’d like to think I wouldn’t make this up.”

White-and-Pink stuck out her tongue at him. It writhed.


End file.
